


Post Cattle Prod Incident

by Deviant



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: Angst, Best buds, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mild wound mention, Pre-Relationship, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deviant/pseuds/Deviant
Summary: Some day following the cattle prod incident, Riggs intrudes on an early morning in the Murtaugh household.  Fortunately for him, Trish has got nothing but love.
--------Short afterthought to season 1 episode 3 "Best Buds."Can be read as platonic or pre-relationship.  NOT cheater-ish or anti-Roger.





	

“Hello Riggs.”

 

Riggs had shyly looked away as his partner kissed his wife on the way out of the kitchen.  Riggs had shown up early at the Murtaugh house and as customary Murtaugh had chastised him half-heartedly before excusing himself to go take a shower.  That’s when Trish caught hold of her husband.  She glided into the room already fully dressed and lovely.  When she wrapped her arms around Roger and leaned into him for a kiss Riggs busied himself with taking an inventory of their kitchen appliances.

 

Now Trish was looking at Riggs, a genuine smile on her face.

 

“Hello Trish,” Riggs greeted before leaning back against her kitchen counter.  He smiled at her, but something throughout his body tensed at being alone with her.

 

“I heard you took quite the beating for my husband the other day,” she said as she took a few steps towards him.  Her heels clacking on the floor and Riggs’ light chuckle seemed like the only sounds in the world on this Thursday morning.

 

“To be fair, it was my brashness that put him at the end of the cattle prod in the first place.”

 

“A cattle prod?!” Trish gasped a little, her dark brown eyes widening.

 

Riggs winced.  In hindsight, he figured that Murtaugh had probably given a gentler version of events to his wife.  “Uh, yeah, about that…” but really he could offer no excuse other than “it never really got close to him, I made sure.”  If Trish was soothed by his words it didn’t show.  He doubted much consoled her when it came to her husband’s vulnerable heart and pacemaker.  In how many various ways had Riggs already endangered that life?

 

Trish made a small noise and then glanced away.  Riggs’ eyes trailed down her blazer over her pencil skirt, trying not to imagine her as a widow.  When her hand flew up to her mouth he took a chance at glancing her face and was surprised to see a small smile there.

 

“Well, thank you for that.  Are you healed from your brawl then?” she asked.

 

Riggs shrugged, brushing the question off.  “I’m peachy.”

 

“Fully recovered?”

 

“Never better.”

 

“So you didn’t actually get hit with cattle prod?” Trish asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

 

Riggs hesitated.  Lying to her would have been simpler and he was about to, but then outright lying to her seemed wrong.  Surely she always caught Roger when he lied to her?  Surely she could see through men’s facades?

 

“Show me,” Trish ordered.  Riggs made eye contact with her, taken by surprise.  Her eyebrows were cocked as if daring him to try to wiggle out of her demand.  It occurred to him that he appreciated her high-pitched voice and how effortlessly she could transition from offering thanks to giving orders.  He suspected any smart fellow listened to her whether she was in the boardroom or the grocery store.

 

“It was nothing, Trish,” Riggs said, upping the southern drawl a little in an attempt to charm and dissuade her.  She approached despite his attempt, and he leaned farther back into the counter until it dug into his back and he could put no more distance between them. 

 

He smiled at her.  If only he could appear glib.  In reality he was on edge around her.  Ever since she approached him in the parking garage really, and asked him to protect her husband.  Maybe it was because she was a woman, a mother, a reminder of Miranda while still being completely different and her own person.  So when she got close his smile and resolve softened and he reached for the edge of his shirt, pulling it up just high enough so that she could see the wound the cattle prod left.

 

Trish gasped softly and reached her hands out for him.  He thought she’d stop just shy of him, but instead he felt the warmth of her hands on his side.  Brown skin and long coral nails stood out easily against the light tan of his stomach.  He hadn’t bothered dressing the wound, and had hardly paid it any mind, and even now when he looked at the red and purple mess he felt completely unconcerned about it.  It hurt still, but he enjoyed it.

 

Apparently Trish felt differently.  Riggs searched her face.  Long eyelashes didn’t hide the concern in her gaze.  Her painted lips were still parted ever so slightly.  Even though her fingers were gentle they were bold in their examination of him, circling the wound, her pinky nail scratching him.

 

He could smell her perfume.

 

“Oh Martin,” she whispered.  She placed a hand against his chest, over his shirt, and gave him a faint smile.  He saw the hug coming, soft and careful not to put any pressure on his wound.  He relaxed into it, felt a lock of her hair tickle his collar bone.  Tentatively, he placed a hand on the small of her back and imagined what it looked like there, large and spread out against her small waist.

 

Trish pulled back and rubbed a hand up and down his arm.  Somewhere behind her footsteps echoed on the stairs.  “You need to take care of yourself too,” she said.

 

This time Riggs watched as his partner strolled into the room, hastily showered and dressed but still put-together, and embraced his wife.


End file.
